


Self-Care, 31 Days

by potterandpromises



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Attempt at Humor, Christmas Isn't Canon, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, F/M, Flash Fic, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Post-Season/Series 02, Post-War, Pre-Canon, Prompt Fic, Season/Series 01, Season/Series 02, Self Care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-03-29 18:50:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 6,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19025824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potterandpromises/pseuds/potterandpromises
Summary: 'Cause mental health doesn't end in May...Mental Health Whump challenge by to-hell-with-oblivion on Tumblr. 31 flash fics in 31 days, centering more or less on themes of self-care.





	1. Alone (Jessica Logan)

Jessica sits atop a boulder. Focusing only on breathing the crisp mountain air of the PNW. As the tension leaves her body; she slowly and deliberately shifts downward. On her hands and knees, she presses her palms into muddy earth. Before lowering herself completely, resting her cheek against a patch of moss, wet and cool. In and out. In and out. In and out.

When she feels able to lift her head, she studies the patterns of the leaves above. She'd hardly been farther north than San Francisco prior to their most recent relocation a few weeks ago. But she can already picture raising her daughter here. Hiking the forested pathways together. A sharp contrast to the brushland surrounding the mountains of her own childhood.

She won't, of course. Perhaps in part, but her child, whatever Jessica may call her, will be raised with her in Rittenhouse until they complete their mission. Until they save the world from it’s self.

It had put an enormous amount of pressure on her, And she wants better for her daughter. Wants her to grow up free from war as neither of her parents did. Wants her to be nine and riding her bike, or playing videos games, or whatever kids are doing in 10 years instead of leaning to kill on the weekend. Jessica reminds herself, not for the first time, that she will simply have to be a good parent and a good soldier so that her daughter can grow up in a better world.

So why can’t she stop that constant ache of guilt?

She can only get an hour or two away from Emma, Joel and the others who’s revolving names and faces she can’t keep up with; she cannot waste it on answered questions. Her family, the mission, that's all that matters in the end.


	2. Puzzles (Time Team)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, an excuse to write this headcanon.
> 
> Semi crack fic ahead. ( :

It was not a suggestion. But it might as well have been.

Denise had made an off-hand comment about cutting back on her weekly purchase of alcohol. Connor had replied that it wouldn’t be necessary the first place if they were allowed to leave this godforsaken tomb. 

That evening, she’d told him that, well they still aren’t allowed to leave for anything short of an emergency. She can bring enrichment items to them, like a zoo keeper would for their animals. He’d said there isn’t enough jigsaw puzzles in the world to make up for the lack of fresh air and social contact. Aside from Rittenhouse, Time Travel, the years he spent denying himself meaningful connections, and few of his other business investments; it was the worst mistake of his life.

The next morning, she’d knocked on each one of their doors, saying nothing more than: “Meeting in five minutes.”

With grumbles and concerned faces alike: Connor, Lucy, Flynn, Wyatt and Rufus all filed out of their dwellings and into the kitchen. Jiya was already seated at one of the tables, spooning cereal into into her mouth, looking equally dubious.

Rufus was the first to speak: “Does anyone know what’s going on?”

Wyatt had shrugged, Jiya explained that Denise told her to tell them to have breakfast, stay in the common area, and she’d be back in a few minutes.

They’d all obliged. With the exception of Lucy, who drank her coffee standing over the sink and very much looked as if this was cutting into the six hours of sleep she’d hoped to get.

As promised, a few minutes later, Denise had emerged carrying an assortment of colorful boxes. At that moment, Conner understand.

Eyebrows were raised and looks exchanged; but nothing was said until Denise deposited the armful and laid them out one by one. 'Monopoly’ which seamed to personally mock him, the long, orange box of ‘Jinga’, a few decks of cards, and an aesthetically pleasing but horribly out of place 'Clookwork cottage, 1000 pieces’ all starred back at them.

"What’s that?" Flynn asked.

"Board games—”

“I was hoping you’d smuggled in more weapons.” Denise ignored him.

“I realize I haven’t given you all enough opportunity to unwind and bond outside of missions. So from now on, once a week, we’ll be playing one of these together.” At Flynn’s scoff, Denise added: “you will not leave until this puzzle is completed. That’’s an order.” This of course, did not stop Flynn from propping his feet on the table instead of helping, as if in preparation to watch the dumpster fire crackle.

And that’s how they ended up here, sitting at their three pushed-together tables, starring into the middle distance that is a 'Clookwork cottage’. Lucy, bless her heart, seems like she wants to enjoy it. But when Wyatt complains, she snaps at him. 

“I’m sorry,” she turns to Denise. “I appreciate the effort, we all do. But…"  she gestures to the scattered pieces and shakes her head apologetically.

"Fine, I’m happy you tried. You’re all dismissed."

"Maybe we could play Assassin’s Creed next time.” Rufus suggests. But he’s already springing up from his chair, Wyatt in tow.

“Flynn, you could at least help clean up.” Flynn, who only obeys orders from Lucy, moves to do so.

Connor gets a second cup of coffee, but nearly drops it upon hearing: “Want to play for steaks?” In Flynn’s low, distinctive voice. And he turns to see him leaning over Jiya like they’re plotting to kill an important government official.

"What stakes? We don’t exactly have any use for money down here."

"But we use furniture.” Jiya raises an eyebrow. “And I commandeered most of what’s useful from the storage area—I keep it stockpiled in my room—there’s an old computer you could play around with."

"And what do you want if you win?"

"Your bed.” 

Connor chokes on a sip of coffee. Jiya snorts. Denise leans over and whispers: “They’re worse than my teenagers.”

“Why?”

“I have my reasons.” Flynn gestures down his body, emphasizing his height.

Jiya holds back a smile. “I feel pretty good about my odds.” and they disappear down the hall, deck of cards in hand.

“They have to know about the space cot, right?"

"I mean, they must."

"This morning was a disaster." 

The atmosphere turns sober and Connor steps in her view, the kitchen now vacant. “Nobody, except perhaps, our dear friend Garcia Flynn, knows disaster batter than I do. You had good intentions, and there was no harm done."

Denise nods. "I just wish I know how to help them.”

“Word of advice: the problem is not with puzzles or lack there of." Connor had liked them as a kid, might still enjoy them in a different context. "You can go home to your family, they can't." She meets his eyes. "There is no unwinding. But,” He gestures down the hall and she follows his gaze; they can hear the faint sounds of Flynn and Jiya teasing each other. “It seams laughter has a way of persisting." Her lips twitch, before giving way to a small smile.

She sighs. "It is my job to keep you all safe. But It  _might_ ,” if Conner were a dog his ears would have perked up. “Be possible for you all to get a few supervised outings a month.” Connor grins. (When had his standards gotten so low?) “Or I could see about moving to a safe house with some land around it."

Connor pulls her into a hug. He can’t think of any many circumstances where they’d meet and stay in proximity for long. How remarkable it is that they’ve become friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found the puzzle on this Reddit forum: https://www.reddit.com/r/Jigsawpuzzles/comments/btqvgg/clocktower_cottage_1000_piece/


	3. Guilt (Garcia Flynn)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning(s): themes of canon child death

_I'll always protect you._

It had been a promise.

 


	4. Sleep (Flynn Family)

"Ten more minutes daddy." Iris grabs at Garcia's calf, pulling herself onto his lap.

"You've brushed your teeth. I’ve brushed your hair. Your closet is monster free," She glances at it, a little skeptically. "And you've had your story. It's time for bed." 

She looks up at him with a protruding lip. "Pretty please with sugar on top?"

Garcia pulls her out of his lap and into a sitting position, facing him. He touches her petite face, lightly tracing over her chin and nose with his thumb. "Do you know why we go to sleep at bedtime?" Iris shakes her head. He and Lorena had told her many times before, Garcia thinks she uses it as an excuse to stay up  _just one more minute._  But it's important she understands, so he wipes the day's exhaustion from his eyes, leans down, and explains again: "if you go to sleep, you'll grow up big and strong, like me and mommy. And you'll have a better day at school tomorrow. Ten minutes isn't worth having  _a whole bad day,_  is it?" 

Iris thinks for moment. "Three more minutes."

"Go to sleep. I'll see you in the morning."


	5. Touch (Garcy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning(s): Blood

When she wakes, Flynn’s arm is draped over her and the farm house is doused in soft yellow light. Her side aches from the Rittenhouse sleeper’s knife and her head pounds from dehydration. There’s dried blood in his hair— he hadn’t said anything, she couldn’t see anything; it is not a surprise.

A painting they are not. 


	6. Liquid (Garcy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning(s): Blood

She stares blankly at the cracked and blackened mirror, watching her own ghostly face watch the tissue she has clutched to her palm. Specks of red seep into larger drops.

Lucy is really tired of bleeding. 

It's been at least four hours since she'd tripped and scraped her knees, her shin, and slashed her head on a rock. And it's all so routine; a questioning look or two, a quick, true explanation and that was it. 

But here she stands in the bathroom, in the middle of the night, with still-bleeding wounds.

A knock at the door. Her shoulders tense. "It's me." 

Okay.

Flynn does not strictly need to identify himself. She's never known another man, particularly one as deadly as he, to knock with such restrict. He must have heard or watched or sensed her, and decided to intervene.

She looks down at her bloody lags and partial undress. Shame rises in her stomach, she shouldn't need help for something like this, she should not  _want_  help for this. And she would rather not have—

"Lucy?"

But the sound of his concern and her deep exhaustion win out. She crosses the room and opens the door a crack.

Dark eyes meet hers, and inspect what she has chosen to reveal, up and down. They flick back up for permission and she grants it, opening the door and allowing him across.

Without a word, he kneels to inspect the damage.

"It's not that deep," she murmurs. "I just can't get it to stop."

"It's been hours, that isn't good."

"You think I don't know that?" It's harsher, more emotional than she intends. But he ignores it, and asks her a few practical questions. Yes, she washed it thoroughly. Yes, she fall well they were separated. He does not take his eyes off the damaged patch of skin the whole conversation. She's used to his starring, their relationship was built on it. But his location, the state of her clothing... she lets out a relived breath when he rises to his feet. 

He holds out his hand, and it takes her a moment to understand he wants to see her palm, too.

"You're right, it's not deep." He acknowledges. "But it's also not stopping. You'll need to keep pressure on it, lay down, hold it above your heart." It's matter of fact enough; but he does that thing with his tongue and she can tall there's something else he wants to say. "You can sleep in my room and I can help with bandages, if you'll let me." She should refuse at least that last part, but he is more attracted to the outcome. She nods.

She crumbles on the bed in an unceremonious heap. And learns he keeps a FirstAid kit in his room, she is simultaneously concerned and impressed. Flynn gestures for her to switch sides, lengthwise, in order to prop her feet against the well. He's gentle, the discomfort of the bandages being wrapped around her limbs is a sharp contrast to his fingers, only pressing down to stabilize, hovering above her skin the rest of the time. She enjoys it, in a way it is not smart to examine too closely.

"You didn't have to do this, you know. I would have been fine on my own."

"You were bleeding.  _Are_  bleeding," he corrects. "It is not a burden, or a waste, or whatever it is you're worried about, for me to help you. Now, get some rest." 


	7. Warmth (Wyjess)

"I saved your life."  
  
 _Sentimental._  

Jessica wraps another blanket around his soaked, icy form.

_Week._

"That doesn't mean anything after tonight."  
  
 _A_   _traitor,_ and she can't even admit it. 


	8. Learning (Garcy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning(s): Food

"You know you're supposed to flip them, right?" Flynn says, picking up a half-charred pancake and turning it over in his hands, nose wrinkling.

"Yeah, but it's like anybody tells you when to do it." Lucy crosses her arms, and surveys the lose flour and batter that streak their kitchen and her clothes. There are worse failures. But she's wasted so much food, will waste time cleaning it all up, and with nothing to show for it.

"It's okay," Flynn says, with a fondness that startles her. "You're learning." 


	9. Color (Jiya Marri)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning(s): Canonical Character Death

Jiya can see all the colors Stanley Fisher promised: mixtures of red and green, yellow and blue, ones she doesn’t yet have names for. She’s read up on them since returning from Chinatown. There was an experiment done in 1983 that enabled it’s participants to see the forbidden colors. Somehow, laying in the dark, in her bunkbed, 97 years before his birth, she’d been able to feel him, had picked him out from all the time treads she’d saw and beings she’d sensed. It had been life in it’s fullest, as if existing for the very first time. The colors aren’t her visions, there’s no reason they’d have any similar effect on their own. But she wonders, had the participants felt even a fraction of what she did?

Now, it’s hopelessness to it’s extreme, he is not there, at all. But this non-place is more desperate than deed. And she returns to her present, where things are dimmer, stagnant in comparison. And Connor is watching her from the doorway, bleak concern etched in his features. He may not a threat, but the prospect of trance-ing deep enough as to not hear him coming is.

She eyes him, daring him to say something about her recent state. “Denise brought dinner.”

Jiya forces herself up. She’ll eat to keep herself functional, then she’ll work on the lifeboat again; and again. For as long as it takes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Source for the descriptions of the forbidden colors and the study referenced: https://news.softpedia.com/news/Forbidden-Colors-Do-Exist-247057.shtml
> 
> The song Technicolour Beat by Oh Wonder was my inspiration for this and I highly recommend listening to it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j9FfYWp_d5w


	10. Change (Garcia Flynn)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning(s): Murder mention, suicude mention.

They lay in a dark warehouse, in a state Flynn has only a notion of— Ohio, or somewhere in the vicinity, he thinks. All he knows is that it's measurable. Denise brought them sleeping bags and blankets from the nearest Walmart, and left to sort out the bureaucracy of getting a new long-term safe house. 

The last time he'd slept on the flour of a warehouse, he'd been hours away from attempting to blow up a room full of people, himself among them. The proof of change, of progress, is in the warm bodies surrendering him. They had to cuddle, or nearly cuddle as the case may be, for warmth. But the fact that they'd all, be it begrudgingly, mutually decided that this is better than frostbite means something to him. Lucy pressed to his side, Jiya to her, even Wyatt edging a little closer to him, means something. He doesn't want to name it, he doesn't want to think about it after the day they've had. But it feels like absolution, and he cannot ignore it.


	11. Work (Karl)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning(s): Ableist language, alcohol mention, gambling mention, murder mention

The boss is a strange man, Karl often mused. That is, he used to muse, before he realized the boss is batshit crazy. After Anthony, he's split every free moment between a beer or poker with the boys and keeping an eye on Flynn, in case he's decided they're also compromised and need to be ‘taken care of’. 

Karl picks up the pot and pours himself a cup of coffee. Emma is eyeing him from the doorway. He's never liked her, something in her gaze isn't trustworthy, he's been in the business long enough to know.

Between her and the boss and the fast disappearing follows, Karl reckons it's time for a change in scenery. "Hey, Bruce? Let's say you and me take it to greener pastures." 


	12. Date (Wyjess)

The sun is getting ready to set, casting golden light over the valley. They reach the top of the hill, the hill with the tree she first kissed him under. She knows what’s coming, and she feels sick. He smiles, they chat for a minute about the view and the weather, how graduation is coming up in a few weeks. Than, he gets down on one knee, and pulls out a ring box, upside down, the ring falls into the grass. Jessica laughs, it nearly comes out a sob. He’s trembling, and fumbling for it, muttering to himself. And she gets down on a knee with him, cups his cheek and says: “Yes.”

She kisses him, pushing him backward, having what she wants, for several seconds at least. And they look for the ring together. She loves him. She loves him and her insides twist.


	13. Soft (Riya)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning(s): Death mention

Rufus is asleep, Jiya is not. 

She's getting used to being with him again, remembering his mannerisms, all the things she wishes she hadn't forgotten. They cuddle, and binge watch canceled sci-fi shows, and play video games together. And it feels like moving into another life. Softer than the last, but it evokes those first months in Chinatown. To her friends, she is dead, and she has to be okay with that. But he is alive, they all are, and she is in bed with him, and that’s more than she ever expected to have again.

He snores, very softly. She smiles a little.


	14. Smell (Lucy & Carol)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning(s): Suicide mention, captivity.

“You bought scented candles?” Lucy asks, her voice hoarse. The old Carol Preston had liked them, too.

“Don’t sound so surprised, Lucy. Rittenhouse has nice things.“

Nice things, nice people, even. But it’s evil all the same, and Lucy will destroy it, it will be the last thing she will ever do.


	15. Release (Wyatt Logan)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning(s): Canonical character death, exercise as a form of self-harm.

Jessica is Rittenhouse, Rufus is dead: Wyatt runs. 

He always comes back. Of course he's thought about dogging it to the nearest town, finding a bus station, and just quitting; they'd be better off. But he knows he won’t, he can’t. But he can't stay around, not with Jiya’s haunted stare, not with Rufus dead, not when it’s his fault. He can't lose himself in a punching bag or a bottle of whiskey, so he runs until he’s collapsed on the ground, miles away from what remains of his life.

The sky is clear, his head still isn’t. But he catches a glimpse of a cabin in the distance, a warning he's ventured off the government-owned propriety with their new safe house. He waits until his breathing is a little safer, and pulls himself up, starting the long trek back at a walk. He’ll run more, in a few minutes, when he can see straight. It barely helps, never for long, he’ll recoil as soon as he sees them. But he's had his release, he can fight another day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was inspired by Make Amends With All My Shadows by deathmallow: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14906831/chapters/34527482


	16. Giving (Flynn Family)

Lorena abruptly sets her coffee down on the counter. “Iris, sweetie,” She pauses, already half way up the stars, her fruit and cereal quietly abandoned. “Let’s give daddy some time to rest.” Garcia had awoken, mumbling, in a cold-sweat again. Lorena had told him to sleep in, for father’s day.

“But I want to give it to him now.” Iris whines.

She approaches her daughter, the stairs rising Iris nearly to eye level. “There’s something you should know.” Iris’ eyes widen in interest. They caught her sneaking around past her bedtime, a few nights ago. She denies intent to eavesdrop, but conversations need to be had about privacy and some of the things she may have overheard, things they’ve put off because didn’t know how to explain them. “Sometimes grow-ups get sad and scarred too. And we might even need to hide under the covers for a while, just like you." 

Iris pops her thumb into her mouth, staring down in thought. "But won’t the present make him happy?” She finally asks.

“Of course it will. But sometimes people need to take really good care of themselves to enjoy things like this.”

“I want daddy to enjoy it." 

"So do I. That’s why we’re going to be quiet and let him sleep.”

Iris nods, and hops down from the stars. “Can I see it again?”

“Do you promise to not wake him up?”

“Pinkie promise." 

"Alright.” They’d already placed it in a gift bag, but it’ll give Iris something to occupy herself with.

Lorena retrieves the little yellow bag and takes out the photograph, unwrapping the tissue paper herself so her daughter won’t prematurely tear it. Iris sits down at the table to admire the blue and purple frame, her own handiwork. And their recent family photo, taken on the beach in Croatia. She’s getting to be quite the little artist, like her mother. Lorena places a kiss to her hair, she is so very proud of her.


	17. Hands (Garcy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning(s): Being trapped in small space and subsequent panic attack.

Their footing has become unsteady these last few miles, Flynn wishes it to be a sign of nearing their new residence, but he’s pessimistic. Rufus, Jiya, Mason, and Wyatt had went in the lifeboat, either by the necessity of piloting, or by virtue of calling dibs; he’d been slow to do so, Lucy self-sacrificing, though he suspects she had no idea the lengths of the circumstances’ misery. It’s dark, except for tiny gaps in the roof of the box truck, and he can barely make out her figure, hunched over, siting atop one of many miscellaneous crates. He can’t make out her facial expression or her breathing pattern; but his chest tighten. Is she claustrophobic? That seams like something she’d have put in the journal.

Something is  _wrong._

“Lucy—”

The truck breaks without warning. She cries out, and something— S _he_  hits the flour with a revolting crash. He scrambles for her, hands feeling blindly, wildly, until one collides with her collarbone. “Are you hurt?" 

She’s sobbing now, and her breathing is rugged beneath his fingertips. Physical injury is likely minimal or nonexistent, but she digs her nails into his wrist like a dying woman.

"Lucy, whatever you’re thinking, it isn’t happening.” She clings to him. “Okay? it isn’t happening.“

"Flynn…” She recognizes him, that’s good.

He doesn’t think they’re close to civilization anymore, but they need to be quiet. God knows what will become of them all, should they be passing through some small, nosy town, and somebody overhears her distress and does the sensible thing and calls 9-1-1. His initial thought, covering her mouth and letting her struggle against his chest, is sickening. Never again, he’ll soothe her, somehow.

He starts by, to her evident surprise, clumsily picking her up, and setting her down near the rear, their eventual exit. “Flynn?” Her voice is croaky and unstable.

“It’s safer over here.” It isn’t if a car slams into them from behind, but at this point, that seems far less likely than getting battered by wooden cubes.

It could just be surprise at being moved, or completely imagined, but she seams a little calmer. “Let’s cuddle for a bit.” She accepts, putting weekly at his sleeve until he adjusts the both of them, so his back is against the wall, and her against his chest. “Okay?” She responds by nodding into his collarbone.

It’s only after several minutes, when her sobs gentle to uncontrollable sniffles, and he’s tracing invisible circles on her back, that he realizes he’s shaking, too.


	18. Writing (Lucy Preston)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during 2x05.
> 
> Content warning(s): Themes related to Carol Preston, alcohol.

_What do we do in our family, when we go through tough times? When we need to collect our thoughts? We write them down._

Lucy has long given credence to those words. Now, she lays in bed, her body aches, and the language isn’t there. Was the advice even real? Was that too, designed to break her?

She abandons her notebook, pads down the hallway, and takes up residence on the couch, attempting to focus only on the movie. After several minutes, Flynn silently joins, and hands her a beer. It helps.


	19. Photographs (Lucy Preston)

Lucy crouches next to a particularly alluring patch of wild flowers, positioning her shot to capture the appellations in the background. It had been years since she saw the details in flower petals. Photography had been a hobby of hers, after the accident, after she quit the band, when she’d needed something to be her’s, and only her’s, again. She’d fallen away from it over time, with grad school, her mother getting sick, life. And she’d never especially fond of the great outdoors, anyway.

But something about the winding pathways, and abundance of greenery outside their new safe house called to her. So she frequents the trails, careful not to wander too far, and takes pictures of mossy rocks and the sun peeking through the trees, her shoes by the creak.

There’s a perspective to it that she’s missed without realizing, seeing things up close or at odd angles. Being observant without the purpose of avoiding a gruesome death is what keeps her here, in the woods and fields; it’s down time.

She’s begin to photograph her friends, too. When they’re happy, reading or chatting, smiling at something, and oblivious to the action. Because she likes to think she’ll be able to look back on this, someday.


	20. Achieve (Rufus & Connor)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning(s): Food, disordered eating due to stress.

Connor knocks on the door of Rufus’ dorm. As he waits, somebody’s tabby cat rubs against his leg, having smelled the cheeseburger. “Rufus, it’s me.”

Rufus emerges, his appearance unkempt. “How—” He wipes at red-rimmed eyes, taken aback by both Connor’s presence and the light of the hallway, harsh in comparison to the cave-like space he’s made for himself. “How are you even here right now?" 

"I spoke with your mother on the phone, said you were strangling pretty badly.” He rises the paper bag. “Thought I’d bring you some food.”

Mouth slightly open, he steps aside and Connor enters. “Sorry about the mass.”

“It’s quite alright,” he hands off the takeaway, and they both sit on the bed. “For some, it’s part of the process.” Rufus takes slow, deliberate bites, suggesting he’s underwent prolonged time without food. “When I first met you,” Rufus looks at him. “I knew with every fiber of my being that one day, you’d achieve great things. I still do.” 

And for the first time in a long while, Connor Mason finds himself doing the tidying up.


	21. Walk (Flynn Family)

"Pretty," Iris points to a patch of dandelions. 

"Yes." It must be the dozen time they’ve repeated these words in this manner since they arrived at the in-laws. Garcia smiles.


	22. Tired (Garcy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning(s): Self-destructive behavior (not sleeping for days on end), anxiety, momentary mild self-injury.

Flynn has known for years that he’d rather be with Lucy then apart; has known missions were harder when separated because his brain liked to actively remind him of all the horrific things that could be happening to her. But without the bunkers and safe houses, without the baseline sense of security they provided, felling asleep away from her isn’t even an option. So, for a few days, he doesn’t.

The first night, he’d wrestled with himself on weather or not it was acceptable to ask if he could sleep on the floor in her room. Deciding that he couldn’t and wouldn’t sleep regardless, he’d spent the remainder of the night figuring out how long it would take someone of his build and skill set to silently move from the door or windows to their respective bedrooms.

The second, he sat outside her door, to guard it, and monitored all visible points of entry, listening for any and all sounds of disturbance. He’d begin making himself presentable just as the light began to peak though. Lucy is none the wiser.

The third, he is drifting.

Her bedroom door opens. He isn’t fast enough, can’t even scramble to his feet before alarmed eyes are staring back at him. His chest tightens. “Flynn?”

“Everything’s fine, I just couldn’t sleep.” Objectively,  _currently,_  that is true. She steps closer, searching his face, and holds out her hand. It takes him a moment to realize she means to help him up. When she does, he stumbles, nearly knocking them both to the floor.

“Have you slept at  _all_  since we came here?” The fear, the note of betrayalin her voice, makes him dig his teeth into his lip. “I thought—”

“I’m fine, everything’s fine,” he lies again. She will not believe him, she’s too smart. But her tone, the simple fact of his exhaustion, that he  _can’t_ stay awake— it hurts _._ And he knew confrontation was a possibility, but he couldn’t  _stop—_

She shakes her head, closing her eyes tightly. And takes a deep breath, before evenly saying: “We can talk about this in the morning, if you’ll come to bed." 

And he nods, following her; because it’s all he’s ever been able to do, even as some part of him whispers: ‘it’s not safe.’

Her space is painfully unfamiliar compared to rest of the house. When he doesn’t move any further than the doorway, she tugs at his hand. "You first.”

She obliges, climbs onto bed, and holds the end of the comforter up, looking at him expectantly until he joins.

It isn’t the first time they’ve shared a bed. But it’s been infrequent enough that he is acutely aware of every point of contact. And when she unexpectedly leans against his chest to make sure the blanket is fully covering him, it’s too much. But his fingertips ghost over her hip, her lower back, on impulse and the whole thing feels like an illusion. And maybe it is, she does not say anything; only settles in and lies facing him. They stare at each other for a long moment.

"If you can’t sleep,” Lucy says, “Talk to me. And I don’t just mean that for tonight. I want you to talk to me if you’re struggling.”

Flynn gazes downward, than back at her. “I can’t sleep because you’re here.”

Her eyes widen.

“No, Lucy,” he shakes his head, “That isn’t _—_ ” He reaches for her, cradling her chin momentarily, and brushes her hair back. “The problem isn’t you. It’s _—”_ he lets out a frustrated sound, “it’s you  _here_. This place, it isn’t secure.”

“We can get a security system _—_ ”

"I had a security system,” his heart pounds against his chest, “And it didn’t matter. I cannot _—_ ”

Lucy pulls herself on top of him and burrows her face in his neck, running her  fingers through his hair. “We’ll be okay,” she whispers in his ear. He does not believe her; but in his grief and misery he is overwhelmed and the words reach him.She tires to pull away and he instinctively tightens his hold on her waist, too tightly, he starts to stammer an apology. But she only looks at him, unfazed with an unwavering hope he once held within himself. "I really do believe that deep down, In no small part because of you.”

Okay.

They are okay.

She rests her head on his chest, and resumes methodically running her fingers though his hair. He closes his eyes; but opens them as soon as he feels the unfamiliar ache of his muscles relaxing. “You can let your guard down, it’s okay.”

“You know where the _—_ ”

“Yes.”

“Lucy,” she lifts her head, “You understand a security system isn’t enough, right?”

“We’re friends with engineers experienced in working with  _time machines._  I amsure _w_ e can figure something out together.” 


	23. Meditation (Denise Christopher)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning(s): References to canonical character death

Denise steps out of the shower, promptly dries off and gets dressed. She sits down, cross-legged on her bathmat, and focuses only on her breathing.

In five minutes, she is ready to grab a protein bar. She is ready to exchange brief words with Michelle and leave before the kids wake up. She will face her other, grieving family; they will be discussing implications of traveling into your own timeline.

She is a little ready.


	24. Beautiful (Garcy)

Lucy emerges from the next room, now properly dressed to infiltrate 1920s high society. Flynn smirks.

Now that he can, now that he's sure it's wanted, he makes it a point to complaint her often. “You look beautiful.”

She laughs a little at his expression, tilts her chin up and says: “Just kiss me already.”


	25. Dance (Christopher Family)

“You missed it.”

Denise stops abruptly and turns to see her daughter siting on the couch. Even in the dim light, she can see Olivia’s eyes are slightly red and puffy. “Did mama give you permission to stay up?” She nods.

“I’m sorry I missed your recital,” Denise sits next to her. “How about we get frozen yogurt this weekend?”

“You missed it,” Olivia repeats. Than, in a smaller voice: “You always miss things." 

"You know how work is. But unless the world is ending,” she regrets her word choice immediately, “I will be there; okay?" 

"Okay.”

“Now, did you brush your teeth?” Olivia nods. “Goodnight sweetheart.”

"I love you.”

“I love you too.”

As soon as her daughter‘s door closes, Denise sighs heavily, running her fingers though her hair. The world comes closer to ending far more often than her family knows, then almost everyone knows, and at the end of the day, she cannot explain a thing. But they are safer for her absence, that has to be enough.


	26. Feed (Garcy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place relatively early in season one.
> 
> Content warning(s): Blood, injury, food, mentions of drugging.

Flynn’s eventual partner sits up right and bloody atop his sleeping bag, despite his warning against the former. No doubt she intends to memorize the warehouse.

He takes a plastic water bottle and a newly prepared sandwich and slowly walks over to Lucy, keeping a deliberate distance. After the dust had cleared and she’d recognized him, it had been difficult for her to let herself be carried, be touched by him, no matter it’s necessity. And she needs to trust him, feel safe enough to work with him. This particular situation wasn’t in the journal, but saving her from suffocating under debris is a good incentive to hear him out, once she’s had time to process.

“Here.” She stares at him, unblinking, pointedly ignoring the offered food. “I haven’t poisoned it, you know.”

“If you wanted me dead you wouldn’t have taken me here,” her voice is raspy, but the words are clear, planned. “I want to know what you put in that." 

Smart girl, Flynn thinks, as he kneels, bringing himself to her level. "I don’t even have any sedatives I could put in food,” he reasons. “And as I said, I’m not going to hurt you.” He tries to give a reassuring smile, but she stiffens when he does.

She also looks surprised that he’s even considered her safety beyond the bare necessitates of keeping her alive with a functional brain. And inexplicably, it hurts a little. "I also won’t force feed you. But,” he holds out the bottle, “Here. Sealed.”

She takes it, but doesn’t open it, and it isn’t until her teeth are on it that he realizes she can’t twist the cap. She begins to spill on herself and he isn’t as slow to stabilize the bottle. She startles but accepts the assistance, a surprise if Flynn cares to think about it. He keeps a gentle hold on it, and can’t help but be reminded of the orphan kitten Lorena once brought home for a weekend. Somehow, he is tempted to check that she is swallowing properly, like he did for Little Jack. But he’s already roughly grabbed her by the neck, once, he cannot—

Lucy pushes at his wrist and he lowers the bottle; she breaths heavily.

It had been so long since he’d taken care of anyone, and she hates him.

Flynn leaves her with the uneaten sandwich, the remainder of the water, and advice to lay down. He rubs his face, runs his fingers though his hair. He’d hoped she’d agree to stay for a few days and hear him out in exchange for food and a ride. But she’s too injured, too venerable. Right now she needs a doctor, antibiotics, and possibly far more than that.

He turns to one of his men, “Get me a number for Agent Denise Christopher, Homeland Security.” 


	27. Listen (Lucy Preston)

After everyone else has gone to sleep, Lucy mechanically goes though her own routine, which, since Christopher gave her earbuds, isn't complete with collapsing on her bed and staring at the ceiling until she’s unconscious.

Instead, she lies in the darkness of her room, being soothed by the rhythmic sounds of Rocky Mountain High.


	28. Clean (Journalhoodie)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Journalhoodie, or possibly JournalHoodie is the platonic ship name for Lucy & Rufus. Here's a post about it for context: https://misscrazyfangirl321.tumblr.com/post/185876545045/timeless-friendships
> 
> Content warning(s): Food mention

Still half-asleep, Rufus wanders into the kitchen and says good morning to Lucy, who’s already siting at one of the tables. He passively opens the fridge, shuts it, and gets himself a bowl of cereal. Only when he sits down across from Lucy does he notice she’s wearing a puffy skirt from sometime in the 1800s, combined with a turtleneck.

“Hey, what’s with the, uh…?” He gestures to her outfit.

She shrugs, “It’s laundry day, this is all that was clean.”


	29. Indulge (Riya)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning(s): Food mention

After Rufus is saved, the days of obsession are limited. And with the steady supply of food, soap, and modern convinces, Jiya finds herself with free time on her hands. 

Time to relax, to be with Rufus and her friends again.

Despite all the impossible things to happen in her life, she’d never considered this to be a realistic possibility.

She decides to play video games with him and finds she’s still fairly good at some of them. There is nothing she needs to do and no where she needs to be; they’re as safe as possible here. She can be with him, indulge, give in to this moment.

“You okay?” he asks, pausing the game.

She smiles, “Yes.”


	30. Flower (Flynn Family)

“Is it an Iris?” For the last month, whenever they walk past flowers, Iris asks this question.

Garcia has been memorizing more species of flowers than he privately thought existed. He checks they aren’t blocking the sidewalk and kneels down, “Let’s see, shell we?”


	31. Anew (Doublevision)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel this ship name also warrants the context post: https://misscrazyfangirl321.tumblr.com/post/185876545045/timeless-friendships

Jiya looks down at the newest addition to their safe house, baby Elizabeth. She’s asleep in her crib, while her parents are collapsed on the couch. Jiya isn’t entirely sure why she felt compelled to come in here. She’s made her grievances understood and they avoid each other when possible; it’s worked as well as can be expected.

But the other day, they exchanged greetings, and Jiya didn’t hate it.

Perhaps she thought seeing Jessica’s baby up close would inexplicably function as some final proof that she won’t betray them again. This isn’t the case, of course. It isn’t even as if Jiya doesn’t believe her. If she hadn’t, Jessica wouldn’t be living with them. But she can’t completely let go of the thought, either.

Regardless, her and Wyatt have a very cute, if very load baby. And Jiya can think of her independently from her mother.

As if on queue, Elizabeth wakes up and starts crying. 

Just as she’s wandering if she should try to soothe the child or seek out and deny all involvement, Jessica comes in. She’s clearly surprised to see her, but says nothing.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Jessica says softly, picking the baby up. Jiya starts to leave, but feels as if she should say something. Does she  _miss_ Jessica? Or just how things used to be? Either way, she lingers in the doorway. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm done!!!!!
> 
> If anyone feels like asking me questions about this project (ether on here or on Tumblr) please feel free to do so!


End file.
